Curses Rewrite Snippet (Patreon)

Sorry about the lack of posts--I've essentially been trying to keep my head down and get my rewrites done. To reward your patience, here is a snippet from the book I'm working on. Hope you like it!

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“You’re a cheat.” The man spit on the ground, the saliva and tobacco spattering out in an interesting pattern. If Tevin twisted his head just right, it looked like a bunny. He kept this to himself as the man’s cronies laughed like he’d said something clever.

Val sighed, popping open the chamber of her pistol, and slipping new rounds in. Tevin caught the runes on the copper jacketing—firecracker rounds. Val was annoyed. And from the sneer on the spitting man’s face, he wasn’t in the mood for words. He was in the mood for fists. Tevin loosened his stance, getting ready for the inevitable.

This wasn’t always the way it went—usually, Tevin could smooth things over. Val was the talent, he was the charm. But the spitter was well past such feather-smoothing techniques, so Tevin didn’t waste his breath.

Val snapped her wrist, the chamber snapping back into place. She glared at the man and raised the pistol to the side, aiming it at the yellow heart of the bullseye. She fired. The round hit the enchanted target with a loud pop, indicating that she’d hit the blue ring outside of the yellow eye. The man laughed, but Tevin knew that was Val’s calibrating round. His slipped his hand into his trouser pocket, grabbing the leather sap. Like Val, his eyes never left the spitting man, or his cronies. 

Val adjusted, and fired. The crack and whistle of fireworks. Bullseye. She stepped forward and fired in rapid succession down the line of targets, each pop of the pistol followed by the telltale sound. Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye, bullseye. She stopped. Pop. Then the telltale puff of air as the spent rounds hit the dry earth. Then Val reloaded and snapped the chamber back in again before holstering it. Val tipped back the flat rim of her hat. “The shooting range is spelled against sharpin’, you know that. Or maybe you don’t. I don’t know how deep your ignorance lays. But you accuse me of being a pistol sharp seems mighty convenient seeing as how you owe me some pretty big coin.”

The man’s face turned red and he sneered. “You and pretty boy there accusing me of something?”

She shrugged. “I was implying, rather forcefully, that you were a coward trying to escape his debts, so yeah, I guess I’m accusing you of something.”

Her words weren’t a surprise, but inwardly Tevin groaned. Another brawl meant pretty soon they wouldn’t be allowed at this tavern, either. At least they were outside this time.

The man swung and Val ducked, Tevin jumping in from behind to hit the back of his head with the sap. He knew already that the fight would be short and brutal, and they likely wouldn’t win. Two against five, and the five were grown men. Still, he backed up Val automatically. It was a childhood habit that they hadn’t quite outgrown.

One of the men grabbed Tevin by the neck, tossing him to the ground. He hit and rolled, getting a mouth full of dry grass for his efforts, and barely missing the follow up kick. Unfortunately, he rolled right into a kick from the other side. It caught him in the ribs, the pain radiating out. Another boot came his way and he grabbed it, shoving backward until the man lost balance and fell. Enough of this. Tevin gave a trilling whistle, rolling to his feet. Now he just had to buy time.

He ducked a punch, slamming his fist into someone’s gut before spinning and taking out another man’s knee. There was a satisfying grunt of pain, but the movement had left him open and someone took advantage. A meaty fist grabbed his collar and lifted. A grin split the spitter’s face, and it was a right ugly sight.

Slowly, and with great relish, the spitter drew back his fist. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

“I reckon you might,” Tevin wheezed, his hands grabbing onto the fist for leverage. Then the ground shook, the slightest of tremors. Behind Tevin, there was the sound of earth moving, the dry hiss of scales, and then the deathly echo of a rattle. “But I reckon not nearly as much as I’m going to enjoy this.” Tevin grinned as the man paled, his hands shaking so hard they dropped Tevin in the dirt.

One of the man shouted, “Wyrm!” before they all took off at a run, except the spitter, who had the good sense not to move. Wyrm’s didn’t have the best eyesight, and they tracked prey mostly on movement. 

Tevin looked up, the bright sun showing only the reptilian outline of the worm’s head. Her ears twitched forward, her tongue flicking out to taste the air. Fine tendrils, like whiskers, swayed in the breeze. “Hey, girl.”

Val clambered up off the ground, dusting herself off and swiping at the blood above her eye with the cuff of her sleeve. Without a word, she walked over to the man, undoing the leather purse attached to his belt. She looked into it, fished out a few coins, and then shoved it back at the man. “It’s not the coppers, mind. It’s the principle. Now get.”

The man continued to shake in his boots, not moving. Val sighed. “Tevin isn’t going to let her hurt you, you big galoot. Now, shoo.”

To help speed this along, Tevin stood up and stroked the wyrm right between the ears. She tilted her head, chirping softly.

The man’s eyes narrowed, and he made a sign that Tevin was quite familiar with—a circle over the heart and a slash, a peasant gesture to the gods for protection against the unclean. He sighed.

The wyrm seemed to understand the sign too, or at least picked up on Tevin’s mood, as her rattle resumed. The man swallowed hard as he backed away slowly, turning to run at the first opportunity.

Tevin stroked a hand between the wyrm’s eyes, petting the soft scales. “It’s okay, Bessie. He’s just ignorant.” Bessie snorted, a fine tendril of smoke twisting out of her nostrils.

“Don’t pay him any mind, either of you,” Val said, dusting off her trousers. “He doesn’t know any better.” She squinted off in the direction the men ran off to. “Still, I think it’s best we be moving on.”

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Happy Monday to you all! -Lish